Page 73 of Cabins Cows Critics
“Like, until you finish the book or…?”
“I don’t know, maybe,” I say as a nervous swirl hits my gut. Wendy is my best friend, and the last thing I want to do is leave her, but this thing with Connor is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. This ranch is like nothing I’ve ever felt, too. Back in the city, I built plans and structure to make the noise around me manageable, I guess. Here, everything just makes sense.
“You’re not coming back, are you?” she says, and I shrug.
“I can’t walk away from this, from him. You get that, don’t you?”
She glances at Greg before wrapping both her arms around my neck and squeezing tight.
“I think you are out of your mind, but I’ve also never seen you happier, so I get it.”
“Ohhh, smell that,” Greg says just as a waft of deliciousness carries on the wind past our noses, and we continue up to the house.
They’ve cleared all the regular furniture out of the main living room and set up a long table in there, seeing as the dining room would be far too small. The table is covered in a red, green, and white checkered tablecloth, and running down the middle are dishes piled high with food surrounded by greenery and mixed-matched place settings. A red bow ties the cutlery in a bundle on top of each plate, with a white name tag on each set, and our names penned in gold.
“Wow,” I say as Wen and Greg take their seats at the end. I look for my name beside her but find Laura’s name instead. Walking around the edge of the table, I start to get that niggle of doubt, nervousness that maybe they’ve forgotten me, but then Connor walks in the room, his blond hair tied in a knot and wearing a fucking sexy blue flannel with the top buttons undone a little. Paired with his stonewashed jeans and cowboy boots, it’s hard not to immediately imagine stripping him out of them. He waves me over.
“You’re right here, beside me,” he says, pulling out my chair for me to sit, and I catch Wendy’s approving grin.
“Would you like more coffee or juice?” he asks.
“Juice would be great. Orange if you have it.”
“No problem. Oh, I asked Sally-May to have a few things dairy-free for you, so we have the mushroom and tomato quiches there,” he says, pointing to a tray conveniently positioned right in front of me. “Then we have the gingerbread pancakes, too, but the ones at the other end are buttermilk, so don’t grab those. Oh, and obviously the bacon and sausage are good to go.”
“Thanks,” I reply, a warm fuzzy feeling filling my chest knowing he not only remembered that I am intolerant to lactose, but he made sure that they specifically had dairy-free options. And on a fucking dairy farm. I ran out of my Lactose tablets a few days ago, and while I don’t mind drinking black coffee, now that I am also out of the small portion of almond milk Sally-May sourced for me, I’m missing the cheeses already.
“Oh, and there’s goat cheese in the stuffed tomatoes. It has less lactose, right?” he asks, pouring my orange juice and setting the glass down in front of me with a grin.
“Have I ever told you that you’re amazing?” I ask as he sits beside me and takes my hand. He brings it up to his mouth and kisses the back of it, his warm lips sending a shiver through me.
“You may have mentioned something last night,” he teases, and then Dean walks into the room.
“Thank you,” he begins, and the noise of the table dies down as we turn our attention to where he stands at the head of the table. Connor keeps hold of my hand, resting it on the table between us for all to see. “We are so happy you all decided to spend your Christmas with us. Christmas is a time for family, and every one of you is now a part of ours. We hope you come back again soon.”
We all raise our glasses.
“Thank you for creating such a special experience,” I say, and when all eyes land on me, Connor squeezes my hand, settling the nervousness that would normally steal my voice at a time like this. “To the Beaker Brothers Ranch team,” I finish, raising my glass. The rest of the guests raise their glasses, cheering, too, for the team that really did open their hearts and their home to us.
“Now dig in, and when your bellies are full, we’ll head out to the cuddle cove to see what Santa has left for each of you,” Nial says, his gaze landing on Connor’s and my clasped hands.“Though some of you might have already been given your favorite gift this year.”
Wendy holds up her hand. “I know I have mine.” She beams.
Everyone congratulates her and Greg, and we eat and replay our favorite moments from the last two weeks. Sally-May’s delicious food and the mini Highlands at the front and center of so many of the guests’ stories. My all-star, a certain cowboy who captured my heart and opened my eyes to a world of chaotic beauty that somehow brings a calm to my mind I’ve longed for.
When the rest of the guests head to the cuddle cove to see what gifts the Beakers have for them, Connor walks me to cabin two, which has a clear view of the cove and backs onto the horse paddocks.
“I talked to Dean and Nial this morning,” he says as we step onto the tiny porch and then he reaches into the pocket of his navy-blue flannel and pulls out a key tied with a red bow. “There’s no strings attached,” he starts, and my gaze flicks to the one tied around the key, and he laughs. “Well, except this one.”
He puts it in the lock and turns it slowly.
“What did you do?” I ask as he pushes open the door.
“I’ve booked this cabin out for the next twelve months. It’s yours if you want it. That is, if you still want to stay.”
I step through the room, so similar to the one I have spent the last two weeks in, except the floor plan is flipped, with the bed on the left and the door to the bathroom on the right. The kitchenette is the same, too, but what’s the biggest difference? Instead of a small round table under the window, this cabin has an antique desk, with one of those gorgeous old green desk lamps illuminating it in a warm glow.
“You did this for me?” I ask, running my fingers over the old leather insert on the desktop.
